


My Heart is Buried in Venice

by reesespuffsslap



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Heartache, M/M, basically jean is going through it, inspired by a song, what are feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:08:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29625423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reesespuffsslap/pseuds/reesespuffsslap
Summary: another short fic LIGHTLY inspired by My Heart is Buried in Venice by Ricky Montgomery
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	My Heart is Buried in Venice

**Author's Note:**

> !!SPOILERS!! Season one and minor season four stuff

Jean remembered the fire from that night.

He remembered the smell and the quiet noises the people around him made.

He remembered not being able to move, just staring forward as piles and piles of bones burned.

He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away, his eyes scanning every bone to see if he could just somehow tell which one was his.

If he could tell which one was Marco’s.

It had been years.

The airship was quiet, only the light sound of someone tapping their feet.

Jean covered his ears.

It was one of those days.

A day where he wished more than anything that things would just go back to before.

Where instead of fighting other humans, the only thing the scouts had to worry about was taking down a few titans in an open field.

It was wrong of him, to wish to go back to such a time.

People were still dying.

But those people died by titans, and now Jean was on an airship after himself and the people around him had just massacred an entire city.

Jean wondered, and he wondered this a lot, just what Marco would think.

Would Marco have given up?

Jean wanted to say no, he wanted to.

But he would never be able to know how Marco felt anymore.

And once again, Jean thought back to that night.

The fire, and the way that if he had stood any closer he probably would’ve burned.

Jean had never really moved on from then.

He had left his heart in that fire.

He told himself that it would never happen again.

And for the most part, it didn’t.

But it didn’t really count, if he were to be honest, because losing comrades and losing friends is a little different.

And he would never forgive himself for thinking that way.

**Author's Note:**

> just another quick-write, this was kind of all over the place but I hope you enjoyed it !!


End file.
